


Bright Side

by ExpressAndAdmirable



Series: The Heroes of Light [48]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Final Fantasy I
Genre: Backstory, Bards Being Bards, Dancing, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Half-orc, Self-Reflection, Tiefling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 15:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpressAndAdmirable/pseuds/ExpressAndAdmirable
Summary: Lux makes an unexpected but excellent friend. Guest starring Rhos from the Bitches of Bagrule podcast campaign. (Featuring art!)





	Bright Side

**Author's Note:**

> Rhos is a character from the [Bitches of Bagrule](https://bitchesofbagrule.tumblr.com/) D&D podcast; his player [Kimbles](http://kimbles.tumblr.com/) also drew the lovely art in this piece.

He was, without a doubt, the biggest Half-Orc she had ever seen. It was made even more apparent by the fact that he was doing his genuine best to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. Broad-shouldered and at least a head taller than the rest of the gathered crowd, he kept his arms tightly at his sides and his feet pressed together, nearly losing his balance when a pair of excited children shoved past him to get to the front. He was also completely, utterly enraptured.

Lux was in rare form that day. She had chosen her most dazzling clothes, an embroidered surcoat and obi in vivid blues and greens, every edge and hem sparkling with tiny stones. Her horns glittered like amethysts, her eyelids like kohl-rimmed emeralds and her lips like deep, shimmering iolites. She had even woven tiny yellow flowers into her violet hair, the last buttercups from her mother’s window box. Every inch of her reflected the afternoon light, and as she moved in time with her music, she appeared far more like a woodland fey than a misplaced demon. It was not until her swaying exposed her tail that the children in the front of the crowd froze in momentary fear; with a wink at the younger of the two, her eyes flashed a shocking blue before returning to their natural gold. The children gasped. Those who noticed the trick clapped appreciatively. The Half-Orc was one of them.

As she lifted her bow from the strings, the little crowd broke into delighted applause. Lux bowed dramatically, inching the basket at her feet toward the edge of the low wooden stage. She tucked the violin back beneath her chin, scanning the crowd for a brief moment to ensure they were producing their coin pouches; as her eyes travelled, she found herself stopping on the Half-Orc. He met her gaze and appeared to consider something, then his bearded features widened into a grin and he stuck a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the lute she had not previously noticed was strapped to his back. One scarred brow rose in question, the grin unwavering. He wanted to play.

With a slight shrug, Lux pointed to the edge of the stage with her bow, taking a half-step backward to make room. His grin somehow broadening even further, the Half-Orc sidled through the press and unslung his lute. An excited murmur spread through the crowd. The giant seated himself with crossed legs and settled the instrument in his lap, reaching up to secure the cord holding his dark hair in place before giving Lux a thumbs-up. With the quirk of a brow and a slight smirk, the Tiefling turned her attention to the crowd and lifted her bow. Hopefully he could keep up.

At first the Half-Orc merely listened, his long, Elf-like ears twitching ever so slightly. Once he had found the thread of Lux’s melody, he set his lute to work. A soft harmony began to form, building in confidence as the two strangers decoded one another, communicating in their secret common language. Gradually Lux increased the tempo, the lute keeping pace without missing a note. Wherever she led, he followed. Faster they reeled, interchanging bow and fingers, finally spiralling into a beautiful, ecstatic finish.

The little crowd roared. The Half-Orc’s shoulders hunched as he beamed up at Lux, and she was almost certain she heard him squeal with glee. Suppressing a laugh, she nodded approvingly. “Not bad, big guy. Round two?”

* * *

They played for nearly an hour, weaving improvised harmonies as if they had known one another for ages. Though her new companion’s energy seemed nothing short of boundless, as the afternoon slipped into evening Lux found herself beginning to flag. When their song concluded, she announced that would be all for the time being, but assured the crowd she would return the next day. She also reminded them of her performance by the docks on the last night of the Festival, accompanied by an array of talented musicians, dancers and acrobats from all over the world. Finally, she invited the crowd to give a hand to her talented green-skinned friend.

As the Half-Orc leapt to his feet and sketched an elaborate bow, Lux was once again reminded just how big he was; though the stage raised her at least a foot off the ground, she found herself eye-level with him when he straightened and turned to face her. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word, the man flung his arms around her, squeezing her tightly and lifting her off the stage in his excitement. “You’re _wonderful!_ ” he gushed. “That was so much _fun!_ I can’t believe you can play like that! Those melodies, the syncopation! It was _lovely!_ ”

“Please put me down,” Lux managed, breathless.

Instantly, she was back on her feet. The Half-Orc retreated, pulling his arms against his sides and smiling sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “I get a bit excited. I don’t meet a lot of people who can play like you.” He relaxed and presented a hand. “I’m Rhos.”

“Lux.” Taking his huge hand in hers, she studied him as he shook it, wondering if a person could truly be as guileless as he seemed. She smiled despite herself. “Well, I figure I at least owe you some food and drink. What’s your poison?”

“Oh, hmm…” Rhos frowned in thought, then shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m open to anything! Are there any local specialties? I’m always game to try something new.”

Stooping to return her violin to its case, Lux looked up at the Half-Orc. “Not from ‘round here, hm?” He shook his head. “I can’t say the food in our fair city is particularly exciting, but with the Festival in town we’ve more options than normal. We could go to the row of stalls set up on Main Street, or one of the taverns nearby, or the chip shop down on the pier.” She scooped the coin from her basket into a pouch.

“What’s your favourite?” Rhos asked, scar-notched brow rising again. If Lux hadn’t known better, she could have sworn he was flirting.

“Chip shop,” she responded without hesitation. “Cheap greasy food in the prettiest spot in the city.” Snapping her case closed, she rose and slipped the strap over her shoulder.

Rhos grinned, clapping her slightly too hard on the back. “Then lead the way, lindor!”

* * *

Their trail through the city was a slow one, the wide streets teeming with travelers in town for the Festival of Torches. They chatted as they walked, small talk quickly giving way to easy conversation. Rhos was from a small village somewhere to the east, raised mostly by his Elven father, the musician from whom he inherited his love for the bardic arts (and, Lux assumed, his distinctive ears). His specialty was the lute, though he had studied many disciplines while at college in the Feywild, including developing an avid interest in aerial silks. Lux found herself admitting she had not attended college, bracing for the judgment that often followed such a statement, but Rhos found her skills all the more impressive for it. She told him of the Old Man and his instruction; when Rhos expressed a starry-eyed desire to meet him, her smile thinned. He had passed years ago. The Half-Orc stopped walking with a gasp and pulled her into another crushing hug. This time, she was strangely grateful for it.

When they arrived at the docks, Lux led the way out onto the lone pier converted for pedestrian use. Passing a sketch artist and several trinket vendors, she indicated a tiny shack at the end of the walkway, lit by a lively collection of round paper lanterns and bustling with evening activity. She handed Rhos her violin case and bid him find a table while she ordered the food, returning a few minutes later with fried treasures and hot cider in hand.

As they ate and debated the finer points of the lute versus the oud, Lux sensed a pair of eyes staring at her. While it was hardly a unique occurrence, she decided to investigate, slowly turning her head until the little Human girl was within her periphery. Noticing the change in focus, Rhos followed her gaze and waved cheerily at the child with his fried fish. The girl giggled, and Lux smiled. A moment later, the girl’s mother noticed the attention and swooped down to seize her hand, glaring at their table as she scolded her daughter. They departed in a hurry.

Rhos watched them go, his mouth hanging open in bewilderment, until he turned back to ask Lux what had just happened and caught the crestfallen expression she was too slow to hide. Realisation dawned. “Why do they look at you like that?”

“Is that a joke?” Lux scoffed, but the confusion on the Half-Orc’s face clearly indicated otherwise. She paused. “Do they not hate Tieflings where you come from?”

Rhos’s frown deepened. “Why would we?”

Lux shrugged, drawing into herself. “Most people do. We look like devils and we come from devils, so clearly we’re going to slit your throat and steal your valuables and eat your offspring in the night.” She did not bother to hide the bitterness in her voice.

“People really think that?” Rhos spluttered. “About you?! How could they?”

Huffing a soft laugh, Lux produced her cedar cigarette box from her pouch. Part of her still refused to believe anyone could be so unabashedly sincere. “Your guess is as good as mine, big guy. When people decide to hate, they do it with gusto.” She lit her smoke.

“It’s just… ridiculous!” Rhos spat, gesturing wildly in his frustration, his voice beginning to rise. “Making blind assumptions, believing the worst. There are so many beautiful things in the world if people would just open their eyes. I mean, look at you!” Lux blinked. Rhos froze, thought over his words, darkened slightly. “I mean… I didn’t mean… I meant _you_ , not just…” he pointed, then dropped his hand in defeat, “…you.” It was the first time Lux had seen him stumble over his words, and she couldn’t help finding it oddly charming. Reaching for her hand, Rhos wrapped it in both of his. “What I mean is, your soul shines so brightly I can’t believe anyone would miss it, and I’m sorry that they do. It’s their loss, but it shouldn’t be your suffering. You don’t deserve that, lindor.”

Covering the flushing in her cheeks with a drag of her cigarette, Lux offered a wry smile as she exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Rhos let out a deep laugh, giving her hand a squeeze before releasing it. “All the boys. Only a few of the girls.” He winked.

Lux’s smile broadened. She liked when he was on his game. “Are you performing at all this week?”

“No.” Rhos shook his head. “Well, not officially. I had a mind to find a good street corner and try my luck.”

“Then consider it tried. I know all the best street corners in the city, and we make an excellent duet.” Lux lifted a brow. “You in?”

“Of course!” Rhos clapped gleefully. “Absolutely yes!”

Holding the end of her cigarette between her teeth, Lux set her violin case on the table and undid the clasps. “Good. Then let’s make some plans.”

* * *

The next morning, Lux chose a slightly less ostentatious outfit, pairing an embroidered kurta with simple trousers and braiding her hair loosely over one shoulder. She did not, however, tone down her makeup; though the presence of a new friend reduced the need for armour, only an act of the gods could make her face the world without her war paint. When she was satisfied with the day’s performance attire, she kissed her mother on the cheek and set out to meet Rhos.

She found the Half-Orc across the boulevard from the stage they would be sharing, engaged in pointedly flirtatious banter with a handsome Human behind the counter of a vegetable stall. The man eyed Lux as she approached, taking a half-step back and plastering his best customer-pleasing smile across his face. Blessedly oblivious, Rhos greeted Lux with a one-armed squeeze and turned toward the stage with her in tow, bidding goodbye to the Human with a wink and a wave. He did not catch the man’s half-hearted reply. Lux ignored it.

They spent the entire morning on the little stage, trading leader and follower, melody and harmony. The crowd ebbed and waned steadily as the morning progressed, and by the time they decided to break for lunch, their basket was nearly full. Lux split their earnings evenly and selected a nearby tavern known for its vegetable and rice dishes. Another example of the local flavour, she promised. When Rhos revealed he did not drink, Lux ordered him a mug of pomegranate juice; when he admitted it was because he had struggled in the past, she switched to juice as well. She had long since come to terms with her own vices and addictions, but there was no need for her to flaunt them.

Not for the first time since they had met, Lux found herself marvelling at the absolute goodness of him. It was not born of unblemished innocence; she sensed the half-seconds of silence between certain thoughts, saw the flickers of darkness cross his face. She knew a diversion from pain when she heard one. Yet his joyous embrace of life was undeniably real, and as they played together through the afternoon, Lux realised she would miss his presence when the Festival concluded. So much of her life was spent in the protection of solitude, her interactions with the world ever guarded and abrasive. Yet something about the Half-Orc made her feel welcome, even safe. She felt, at least for the moment, less alone.

For dinner, she recommended trying one of the food stalls and taking it to go. Rhos agreed instantly, pleased the Tiefling was willing to continue as his guide, and after a quick debate, they settled on hot meat pies from a vendor near the docks. Taking in the hum of the city, ambling up one street and down the next, they continued to chat. Lux pointed out local landmarks, adding in whatever ghost stories and historical tidbits she could remember. Rhos traded with tales he’d heard on the road, especially the ones with happy endings. He liked those the best. Of course he did.

Happening upon the entrance to an alley, Lux stopped, peering into the darkness. Curious, Rhos poked his head over her shoulder. “What is it?” Lux smiled but did not answer, crouching and tapping her nails on the cobblestones. As Rhos tracked her movement, a small grey cat appeared from the shadows to rub its head against her hand. A larger ginger cat followed close behind, greeting Lux with a slow blink before considering the Half-Orc. He chuckled softly. “Are these your friends, lindor?”

“My bosom companions.” Shifting her weight, Lux crossed her legs and sat in the mouth of the alley. The grey cat stretched and pressed its front paws against her knee, purring loudly as she stroked its back. “I probably feed half the cats in Corneria at this point.” She nodded to the ginger cat as it rubbed against Rhos’s boot. “That fellow used to be a scrawny little thing. Now he’s big and fat and healthy.”

“So despite your best efforts, you do have a heart after all.” Rhos bent to join her on the ground, seemingly oblivious to the piercing perceptiveness of his words. The ginger cat leaned against his legs, presenting its back for further scratches, and he obliged with one massive hand. He smiled at the rumbling creature. “You remind me of Runya.”

Scratching idly between the grey cat’s ears, Lux looked up. “Who’s Runya?”

“I had a pet fox growing up.” Rhos considered the statement. “Well, not really a pet. More of a friend. She was free to go if she pleased, but never went far on her own accord. She was a good friend.” Another shadow passed over his broad features, but it dissipated as the ginger cat stepped delicately into his lap.

“What does Runya mean?”

“‘Flame’ in Elvish. She was tawny, like him.” The cat lifted his head, as if sensing the reference, and yawned.

Lux nodded, then tilted her head slightly. “And what does lindor mean?”

“‘Songbird’.”

Eyeing Rhos for a long moment, Lux made a decision. “You’re staying at the Plough and Stars, yes?”

“That’s the one.” Rhos leaned forward conspiratorially, annoying the ginger cat. “The bard they have there leaves… something to be desired.”

Lux snorted. “He really does.” She paused for a beat. “Do you want to go up to your room?”

Whatever Rhos had been expecting her to say, it was not that. He stared at her, dumbfounded, and she wondered whether it was due to the question itself or the casual nature of her delivery. “Wha… With… Just like that?” Apparently it was both

She feigned offence. “What, do meat pies not count as wining and dining these days?”

A deep, bellowing laugh erupted from the Half-Orc, startling the cats back into the alley. “You are as unpredictable as you are mysterious, lindor.” He smirked. “I _was_ going to say you’ll have to work for it, but you beat me to the punch.” He pushed to his feet, dusted off his hands and offered one to Lux. “Shall we?”

With a sly smile, she accepted the lift. “Don’t you worry, big guy. The work’s only just begun.”

* * *

Something was moving at the edges of her consciousness. The tension pressed on her sleeping mind, drawing her slowly out of her dream and into the darkened room. Without lifting her face from the pillow, Lux opened one eye just wide enough to see the familiar pile of clothing on the floor: her own, and Rhos’s. She smirked and closed her eye.

A sudden shift of weight on the bed startled her into full wakefulness. Sitting up quickly, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and observed the huge figure beside her. Rhos was muttering and shaking his head violently, his hands balled into fists. His chest heaved, each breath a battle. Lux’s heart ached. She was no stranger to nightmares.

Without warning, Rhos bolted upright, screaming something in Elvish as he woke. Lux waited for his breathing to slow, then reached out cautiously, resting a hand gently on his shoulder. He snapped around to stare at her, his eyes wild with panic; for a moment, he did not recognise her at all. When he finally saw her, he flushed darkly, swinging his feet onto the floor and dropping his head into his hands. “Lindor.”

“Hey big guy,” she responded softly, folding her legs beneath her and drawing the blanket over her lap. “You wanna talk about it?”

Abruptly, Rhos rose. “I should go. I shouldn’t be here. I should…” He started to pace, then spied his trousers and bent to snatch them up. “I didn’t… You shouldn’t have had to see that,” he stammered as he started to dress. Once his trousers were secure at his waist, he suddenly remembered why they had been on the floor. “Lux, I’m sorry… I mean, I hope I didn’t make you think… I don’t… I mostly prefer men…” He looked at her helplessly.

Lux squinted back at him, one violet brow raised. “So? I mostly prefer women. This is only strange if you make it.” She drew her knees up to her chest, looping her arms around them as she regarded the Half-Orc. “But that’s neither here nor there. Something’s eating at you. Why don’t you tell me about it? Maybe together we can keep the ghosts at bay.” When he did not respond, she lowered her voice. “Tell me about your nightmares, and I’ll tell you about mine.”

For a long time, Rhos said nothing, indecision contorting his features. Then he sighed. “There was a house…”

* * *

Their dialogue lasted over an hour, soft words traded without barbs or banter. Rhos paced at first, his disquiet filling the messy room, but eventually he sank back onto the bed and hugged a pillow to his chest. Lux slipped the Half-Orc’s shirt over her head, her thoughts leaning towards comfortable modesty, but the neckline plunged so comically low she found herself holding it closed as they spoke, her exasperation providing an occasional breath of much-needed levity. Rhos tried to spare her the details, but she would have none of it, and in return she shared her own: dreams of isolation, of darkness, of losing her mother the way she had lost her father. Forgetting the pillow in his lap, Rhos gathered her into his arms, and for a time they simply held one another in silence.

“Let’s go dancing.”

“What?”

“Dancing!” Rhos repeated, releasing her and leaning back to focus on her face. “It’s my favourite way to relieve stress.” He paused to give her a cheeky once-over. “Well, second favourite way.”

Lux snorted with laughter. “Dancing, hm? I don’t think there are any galas tonight, or if there were, they ended hours ago.” She ran her fingers through her hair, humming to herself as she thought. “What style of dancing are you looking for?”

“No style needed, just music and people.” Rhos grinned, then frowned as he watched Lux ponder. “Have you… never been dancing before?”

“Of course I have!” she answered, somewhat defensively. “The Old Man taught me every Cornerian court dance, and most of Pravoka’s, and how to waltz, and–”

Rhos laughed. “No, lindor. Have you ever been _dancing?_ Find a place to just, let yourself go? Let the music move you? Really _feel_ it?”

Peering at him suspiciously, Lux shrank back and curled her arms around her legs. “Not as such, no.” She hesitated, then grumbled, “Never had anyone to go with.”

“That settles it!” Springing from the bed, Rhos seized Lux by the shoulders and lifted her bodily onto her feet. “Get dressed. We’re going. Do you know of any dance halls? Nevermind, we’ll find one. I’m sure there’ll be one somewhere near here. Come on!” He turned to find his shirt on the floor, halted, turned back. “I’ll need that back, though.”

* * *

The dance hall was dark, foggy, and above all, _loud_. Each sconce along the walls burned a different hue, lighting the fog in a dim rainbow and revealing the sea of bodies moving in time to the music. The space was full even at this late hour, the barkeeps serving patrons an array of oddly-coloured and possibly noxious beverages. At the back of the room, barely visible through the fog, a trio of Dragonborn created the driving, repetitive magical beat that permeated the air and thrummed against her ears. She had to admit, it was impressive.

“Does it have to be so loud?!” Lux yelled up to the Half-Orc, her voice dissipating into the thick, cloudy air.

“Yes, lindor!” Rhos responded with a laugh, clapping her on the shoulder. “It has to be loud! How else will you feel it?”

Lux wrinkled her nose, covering her discomfort in the new setting with a judgmental grimace as she hunted for a dark corner to hide in. “The music is very simplistic.”

“Are you going to critique, or are you going to dance?” Taking her by the hand, Rhos stepped toward the press of people.

Suddenly regretting her agreement, Lux resisted his lead, letting out a small whine and glancing desperately toward the bar. “I think I need a drink.”

“No, you don’t. Trust me!” He pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her waist, dipping his head to speak into her ear. “You’re safe with me.”

At first, she was utterly hopeless. She knew she looked ridiculous, her movements stiff and controlled as she searched her muscle memory for the appropriate choreography. Rhos shook her gently, encouraging her to put her training aside and simply enjoy herself. Just try it, he pressed. Trust her instincts. She knew music as completely as she knew her own breath, knew how to let it flow into her and through her; now all she needed to do was let it move her. No-one was watching them, and no-one was judging. She was free to be herself. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the rhythm as if it were the heartbeat of the world, and gradually she began to dance.

Lux had learned her first court dance at twelve years old, sequestered in the back of the music shop with the Old Man and her violin. She had played at many a gala and in many a tavern, had even instructed divers members of the nobility. And yet, for all her training and all her skill, she had never been asked to dance. She was merely the accompaniment. Tonight, on the floor of the dim, noisy hall, she danced for every moment she had spent on the stage or in the bard’s corner providing music for others. For every time she had stayed a step away, a beat apart, afraid to connect. For no-one but herself.

The moon was low on the horizon when they finally left the hall, exhausted and buoyant. Draping his arm over Lux’s shoulders as they walked, Rhos smiled. “See?”

Lux returned the expression with a sleepy smile of her own. “Yes. I see.”

Without much further discussion, they made their way back to the Plough and Stars and crawled into Rhos’s bed. Neither mentioned it, but they both knew they would sleep better with the other nearby.

* * *

In the morning, Lux awoke with a plan. After breakfast she told Rhos to head to the stage without her; she had some errands to run and needed a change of clothes and would meet him when she was finished. She gave him her violin for safekeeping, and as she walked away she realised it was an anchor. There would be no more running.

The streets had gone from busy to packed for the last official day of the Festival. Many of the vendors stayed open for another day after the Prophecy had been read and the fireworks ignited, but Lux was taking no chances. She moved slowly, checking each stall in turn, and when she found the item she sought, she smirked. It was silly, but it would do. After a lengthy haggle, she departed, the gift tucked safely in her surcoat.

Once the rest of her tasks had been completed, she made her way back to the little stage. Rhos had assembled quite a crowd, and when he announced her presence, every eye turned to behold the newcomer. There were a few gasps, but no more and no worse than average, and for that she was thankful. She produced her violin and stepped onto the raised wood.

“I got you something,” Lux blurted as they searched for lunch.

“You did?”

Suddenly self-conscious, Lux nodded, reaching into her surcoat and revealing a swath of blue fabric. Rhos took it delicately by the pom-pom at one end, watching with wide eyes as it unrolled into a long, pointed nightcap, the words “SWEET DREAMZZZ” stitched onto the band in lighter blue thread. “It looks a bit goofy,” Lux offered quickly, “but supposedly it’s enchanted to protect against bad dreams. Can’t make any promises it’ll work, but I figured it was worth a shot.” She fell silent, chewing her lip.

For several long moments, Rhos stared at the cap, slowly turning it over in his hands. Then he threw his arms around the Tiefling, lifting her off her feet just as he had when they met, squealing something in Elvish she could only assume was thanks. She let him squeeze her for as long as she could manage, letting out a small cough when she finally ran out of air, and he set her back on the ground with a misty-eyed smile. “This is… so thoughtful. You didn’t have to, lindor.”

“Yeah, well,” she smirked once she had caught her breath, “rumour has it I do have a heart after all.” She lit a cigarette, eager to shift the focus away from her deep-seated sentimentality. “I also talked to the people in charge of tonight’s big show. One of them is an old friend of mine. There are spaces in my set to jump in, if you want them… and the stage has an aerial rig.”

Rho’s jaw dropped, for once understanding her implication on the first try. “A rig?!” Clearly, he had not seen one in some time. Without waiting for a response, he snatched her into another hug, this time actually spinning her in the crowded street. Stopping suddenly, he set her down. “Ooohhh, I haven’t practiced in so long, I hope I remember how to do everything…” He trailed off, visualising movements in his head.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, big guy,” Lux muttered, blinking away the disorientation of standing once again. “One stipulation, though: you’re going to need a lot more makeup.”

* * *

“There she is! There’s my demon girl!”

Lux dipped her head to minimise her grin. “I’m surprised you don’t claim Mistress of Ceremonies for these things, Bess. They wouldn’t even need magic to hear you.”

Bess laughed as she and the Tiefling planted light kisses on each other’s cheeks. “The day someone makes me an official Mistress is the day Lukahn himself chooses me for destiny. You can write that one right into the Prophecy.” The older Human was resplendent in layers of dark velvet, her corset accentuating her voluptuous form, her cinnamon-coloured hair piled in complicated coils atop her head. She stepped back to nod approvingly at Lux’s own choice of sparkling clothing, then spied the Half-Orc towering behind her. “And this tall slab o’ meat must be Rhos.”

Rhos let out an embarrassed laugh and offered his hand. “Yup, that’s me. I’m Rhos.”

“Charmed, darlin’. I’m Bess, and I run our little freakshow.” Bess rested her hand in his, clearly waiting for the requisite kiss; once he had obliged, she turned her attention to the both of them, her tone brusque yet affectionate. “Lux, you have a solo slot second, then you’re up to play for Dahlia on lyra and those acrobats from Norrikdown, fourth and sixth. You, big fella, you’re up ninth; I assume Lux will be playing for you. Twelve sets, then the bow, and we should be done in enough time to hear the Prophecy. If you have any questions, I’ll be around here somewhere. Obviously, after the fireworks there’s an afterparty at the Gargoyle…” She shot Lux an apologetic smile. “No pressure, sweet thing. Come if you want to.” Placing a hand on her hip, she inspected Rhos with a raised brow. “If _you_ show up, though, I might just put you to work.” With a wink, Bess sauntered off to speak with the other performers.

“What’s the Gargoyle?” Rhos asked as Lux produced her violin from its case, watching the Human depart with pure admiration on his face.

“It’s the brothel Bess owns. She coordinates half the events in the city nowadays, does all her business out of there.” Lux smiled to herself. Bess was good people, and she was quietly pleased that Rhos was able to meet her.

Rhos’s eyes widened as he realised the implications of Bess’s words, then broke into an impish giggle. “Reminds me of my college days.”

Lux tilted her head, several questions forming on her tongue, but that was a story for another time. “You’re welcome to go if you want. But first, we’ve got a gig to play. You ready?”

After a moment of consideration, Rhos nodded, the red-gold powder above his eyes glittering in the light of a thousand paper lanterns. “Undoubtedly.”

* * *

Despite her propensity for keeping to the shadows in her everyday life, there were few places Lux felt more comfortable than the stage. In front of a crowd she had the advantage, using her appearance, her height and her innate magic to create a presence that was as enigmatic as it was arresting. She was otherworldly, a creature of ice and flame, crimson and violet and jade and aquamarine. In front of a crowd, she was powerful.

After playing with Rhos for the past few days, his joining her during the latter half of her set was as effortless as slipping into a fitted jacket. She returned as the sole musician for the lyra set, but asked him to accompany her again for the acrobats, their instruments intertwining at the edge of the stage while the tumblers performed. When the set concluded, they descended the steps to the performers’ ready space and conferred in low tones about the sort of music Rhos wanted for his silks. Lux plucked out a few melodies on her violin and Rhos approved emphatically, noting that he trusted her judgment regardless. If she felt inspired to change her tune, he would react accordingly. She promised to keep the surprises to a minimum. Then, it was time.

At first blush, Rhos did not seem like a graceful man. He constantly underestimated his own size and strength, ducking only at the last possible second to avoid low doorframes and accidentally invading Lux’s personal space with irritating regularity. But as he climbed hand over hand toward the scaffold high above the stage, the river of wine-coloured fabric rippling with each movement, she was reminded of how he had danced: confident, exuberant, and with an elegance too often belied by his unwieldy form. That, she realised as she set her bow to the strings, was the truth of him. When it mattered, he knew himself. Despite the ghosts that haunted him, that knowledge would serve him well.

When the last of the footlights had been extinguished and the applause had faded into excited murmuring, Lux pulled two candles from her pouch and offered one to Rhos. Following with a cigarette, she lit all three and they waited behind the stage, watching the harbour below.

After a beat, Rhos admitted he had no idea what they were doing or why. Lux started, then apologised for her assumption; it was rare to meet a traveller at the Festival who did not know its origin. Just before midnight, she explained, the King of Corneria would read the Prophecy of Lukahn foretelling the end times and the Heroes of Light meant to save the world from destruction. At midnight they would douse their candles, and when no Heroes were chosen, the fireworks would begin in celebration. The world would be safe for another year.

Considering her words pensively, Rhos asked if Lux believed in the Prophecy and the Heroes of Light. She shrugged. True or not, the Festival had always been a time of extra income for her family, especially after her father passed. Once she started busking, it became invaluable. It was also, she added after a pause, a time of joy. She liked the lights, the energy of the people, the sounds of music and the smells of exotic foods. Most of all, she liked the feeling of being included in something. The Festival belonged to everyone, which meant it also belonged to her. She cherished that feeling above all else.

Behind them, the King strode onto the stage, accompanied by Queen and Princess and a retinue of guards. Rhos turned to catch a glimpse of royalty, but Lux tugged his gaze back to the harbour. At the conclusion of the reading, the entire city extinguished their candles, leaving only a sliver of moon to shed its light on the black water. For one tense, silent minute, no-one spoke. Then a single firework shot from the end of the longest dock, piercing the air with a whistle and a bang and a bright shower of golden sparks, and the city erupted into cheers.

Covering her silence with a drag of her cigarette, Lux glanced at the Half-Orc as he stood enthralled by the display. He would be gone tomorrow, filtering out of the city with the rest of the attendees as they returned to their faraway homes and lives. He was transient, his presence in the city and in her life as ephemeral as anyone, but the knowledge of his impending loss was a weight far heavier than she had anticipated. She was not ready for another goodbye.

Suddenly realising she was deeply and utterly exhausted, Lux finished her cigarette and suggested they return to Rhos’s room. They _had_ been out almost until morning the night before. The giant yawn she received in response was agreement enough, and they gathered their belongings and bid their goodbyes to Bess. When they returned to the inn, Rhos unfurled the blue nightcap and placed it on his head with a wide grin. Lux nodded with a tired half-smile. He would sleep well that night. She hoped she could do the same.

* * *

Lux woke to the feeling of Rhos’s hand stroking her hair, and as her faculties returned she realised she had fallen asleep with her head on his chest. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, silently cursing herself for not making her usual early morning escape. She was still not ready.

“Lindor? Are you alright?”

With a start, Lux realised how quiet she had been during breakfast. Rhos was not the most perceptive of men, and if he had noticed, she must have been brooding. She waved dismissively with her cigarette. “I’m fine.”

Rhos regarded her as she continued to walk, avoiding his gaze. “You’re angry with me.”

“I’m not.”

“No…” Rhos mused aloud, “You’re not. …You’re angry with yourself.” Lux paused mid-step, closing her eyes and sighing a lungful of smoke. She had been caught. Before she could turn away, Rhos caught her by the shoulders and dipped his head to properly see her face. “Why?”

Folding her arms protectively, she pursed her lips. “Because…” A beat of silence, of mental debate. Finally, she met his eye. “I don’t like getting attached to people.”

“Why?”

She considered for another long moment. “One way or another, everyone leaves.”

Rhos cocked his head, and as he processed her words, his shoulders drooped. “And you’re tired of that pain.” As she had come to expect, he drew her into another hug. This time, however, it was soft and tender, as if she were a rare bird and he did not want to damage her wings. “Your heart has been through so much. It’s no wonder you try to hide it.”

Despite her desire to pull away, she found herself sinking into his embrace. She nodded, her voice suddenly deserting her.

“Not every story is a tragedy, lindor. Just because a song ends doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth listening to.”

“But you still have to leave,” she murmured into his shirt.

“I do. There are things I need to do. Absolution I need to find.” Taking her by the shoulders once again, he smiled. “But this is a good story, not a sad one. There’s no need to look back on it and weep. I promise.” Releasing her arms, he cupped a hand beneath her chin. “Your ability to connect is what makes you strong, lindor. It’s what makes your heart strong. Don’t give up on it.”

With a wry smirk, Lux lifted her head from his palm and dragged on her cigarette. “You sound like a fortune teller.” Rhos laughed, breaking through the heavy sincerity of the moment, but her expression softened. “Goodbye, Rhos. May the gods help you find what you seek.”

“And may they guide you wherever your path takes you, Lux.”

“Aviva. …My name is Aviva.”

Rhos’s smile was radiant. “Until next time, Aviva.”

* * *

The rest of Lux’s afternoon was spent in quiet meditation, lying on the pillows in Mae’s tent as the older Tiefling etched an affirmation into her skin. It was nearly dark when she returned to her mother’s shop.

Ascending the stairs to a flat that smelled of cinnamon and apples, she found Esperance seated by the fire, a thin strip of half-embroidered leather across her legs. Her mother smiled as she approached, moving her work out of the way as Lux curled up on the floor at her side and rested her head in her lap.

“Hi, baby. How was your Festival?”

Tilting her head to rest her chin on her mother’s knee, Aviva looked up at her with a tired yet genuine smile.

“I made a friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title song by Johnny Stimson.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at @expressandadmirable for a proper table of contents for the Heroes campaign, commissioned character art, text-based roleplay snippets and more!


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